


he did not know how to shiver

by JeanSouth



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7955866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanSouth/pseuds/JeanSouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tetsu thinks himself old enough to be a man, so he proves it by taking on the position at the castle a few hours' walk away. But he'd never considered what he was bargaining for, and there's no return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. boy fearless

**Author's Note:**

> I'm here to ruin everything. hit me up @weilieuw on twitter or lieuw on tumblr to either tell me to Go or to leave me chill/filthy/angst/sappy prompts.

Tetsu was the son of a tailor, the friend of the masses, and probably a bane to whatever God so happened to have created him. He was a boy fearless, wasn't he? Tetsu was inclined to agree when his mother sighed that at him in exasperation. He didn't _get_ his friends' declarations of terror after being caught doing things they possibly weren't meant to be doing, and he couldn't quite grasp his father's stern tellings off that they had been terrified when he'd come home late as child after a day's learning.

He got _guilt_ , for making his father feel bad, but Tetsu had never come across fear. Arguably, that could be seen as a failing: he had no limiter, no invisible boundary to keep him from a mistake any normal person would have shied from at the roiling wave of fear in their guts.

“I'm sixteen,” Tetsu declared to the main room of the shop. Since it was a fact, no one really argued with him. He didn't really know what reaction he'd been expecting when he'd planned that as his opening line. Tsubaki glanced up at him from the pedestal near Tetsu's father, who had pins between his lips and the hem of some lovely fabric in his hands. He shot Tetsu a questioning look. Tetsu shrugged internally. Was it his fault the travelling lord decided to come to the shop after closing hours, when he'd decided he would make his stance? With a deep breath, gathering his arguments of why he was right, Tetsu announced; “I'm going to take the position of valet at the old castle.”

Never mind that the notice posted (in scrawling, elegant script that had given Tetsu a headache deciphering for all the loops and whorls in it) had only requested applications; no one met Tetsu and didn't warm to him soon enough. The Duke would love him. The Duke's friends would love him. Never mind, also, that somewhere across town their priest was likely gasping into his lukewarm tea. How could loving parents send their virgin son into the clutches of a demon, some sermon would read. But he was going to be grown-up, work for a living. He just wished his father would say something, already.

“That's very responsible,” Tsubaki offered pleasantly, somehow more amused than anything, but Tetsu would take a lord on his side any day. He wasn't even exactly sure what sort of lord Tsubaki was, but he took well enough to _My Lord_ in conversation. Tetsu generally just stuck to _my lord_ when unsure, and it hadn't failed him yet. He broke from his thoughts at his father's sigh.

“What did your mother say?” he asked, eyes firmly on the hem he was fixing closed with tiny, precise stitches. Tetsu had never fit tailoring very well. The pun had always taken some of the sting out of not being able to contribute more to the family business than directing any stranger unwise enough to make eye contact into their shop. His father sighed, again, at Tetsu's silence. “I know there's no stopping you, but talk to her.”

With that his father fell into murmuring questions to Tsubaki over minor fit alterations here and there, whatever he was feeling firmly tucked away until no one would be around. Like fear, Tetsu didn't entirely get suppressing feelings. He supposed he had his mother to thank for that.

As a result, he told her quickly and quietly, bolstered by his success in his father's resignation, and threw his energy into soothing her tears when they mingled between joy and sadness that he felt himself grown enough to leave their home and become a man.

“I'll visit whenever I have time off,” he promised, packing the expertly crafted bag that his mother had once used when she'd left her home, too. She sat on his bed, cross-legged with her elbows on her knees, hair slipping haphazardly from its rushed style where she'd sorted through their orders as she always did to ensure each piece would be finished on time. He packed his nicest shirts and breeches; he'd never had to want for fitted clothing or something that didn't itch, which was more than he could say for some of the village children. Lemon sweets pilfered good-naturedly from Johan's laboratory behind the sweets shop were tucked into the left side of the bag next to his hairbrush and the cravat he'd learned to tie five years ago and had since forgotten about entirely. “And I'll visit whenever I run something into the village, and whenever I have to go on some thrilling adventure into the capital where I'll save some foreign prince and get a Knighthood and some land.”

His words drew a laugh from her until she cuffed him upside the head, the gentleness of it only making his sulking pout look sillier.

“You'll do no such thing,” she warned him, stretching her legs to stand when he clasped his bag shut, setting it aside to grab and go in the morning. “You'd best stay out of danger. You know your father and I think the rumours of that castle are ridiculous, but you'll always have a home here, any time you want to come back.”

She grabbed at his shoulders to make him lean down, then barraged him with a kiss on the forehead, on the cheeks, making his scrunch up his nose and half-heartedly flop about to get away until she was laughing all the way down the stairs for a last farewell dinner.

-

Then, when he arrived, Tetsu was still fearless.

“Come in,” a man beckoned him inside, his hands in white gloves and his hair neatly tied back at the nape of his neck. Tetsu could easily envision him as the head of the staff. There was a word for that person, but he'd be damned if he could remember it now that he wanted to. He'd had a lesson! Not that that had ever helped him much at all, if he were honest.

When they arrived in a red sitting room, he hovered near a long, plush looking couch and gazed at it as subtly as he could. It was a long walk from village to castle, and on the way here he'd been dying of boredom, but now he was dying of his calves burning at standing still.

“I take it you've come for the position of valet?” the man asked him, and Tetsu nodded, still preoccupied with titles. “Your name?”

Scribbling down the information as it was given, he hummed occasionally, peppering questions about like ages and backgrounds and learning, seeming increasingly unimpressed at Tetsu's lack of experience. What did he know, anyway? Tetsu had enough drive for at least three experienced men.

“I will fetch his Grace,” the Steward – Steward! There it was – informed him, turning to leave. “Tea will be sent. You may prepare it for pouring when his Grace arrives.”

With that he was gone, leaving Tetsu to glance surreptitiously for all of a few moments, then gratefully sit on the sinfully soft couch. So soft he forgot to stand when a girl entered with a tray of tea supplies so fancy it also seemed sinful, but she left before he could fix his poor showing.

There really was a ridiculous amount on the tray. Hot water, another thing with hot water that seemed to already have tea in it (why?), cream, several sugars, and even a lemon, finely sliced and splayed artistically on a small wooden tray. Curious, he stood and prodded at them a few times. Take them off the tray? Leave them on? The cups, at least, could go, and once they were off the rest may as well have just followed suit.

Logically speaking, people would want to add their own sugar. It _seemed_ logical, at least, so he placed them and the lemon and the cream by the teacups, and then tea and hot water last. It seemed ludicrous when compared to their simple teas at home, set haphazardly on the table while his mother read to them.

Fidgeting with it wouldn't make him more likely to succeed, though, so he sat and waited, wondering how quickly silver teapots went cold. He didn't wonder long before the door opened again, allowing a grand entry to the Duke. No one announced him, as odd as it was. Maybe part of his test was whether or not he already knew and... he didn't, he realized. No one had ever called the Duke by name in his earshot. He seemed like someone cultured, if far smaller than Tetsu had anticipated. He seemed like he'd be the something-eth of his line, Duke... Hugh. With something imposing but ancient-sounding. Algernon? That sounded like something from his mother's books. Duke Hugh Algernon the Third, protector of the realm, so on and so forth.

“Your Grace,” Tetsu mimicked the Steward, standing and sweeping the best bow he could, not reading anything from the carefully expressionless face in front of him until he swept forward and went for the cream, then stopped at the disapproving look. Plastering on his usual charming grin (the Duke would love him!) he reached instead for the teapot, pouring it shakily over the strainer. It was heavier than it looked, even for him, and he was used to bolts of cloth! Reaching towards the cream, he turned his smile up a notch. “Cream?”

That got him a nod, at least, so he followed suit with the other items, and eventually exhausted them all.

“You ought to pour yourself some tea,” the Duke motioned with his free hand before he sat back, saucer resting in one hand while he held his tea with the other. Tetsu mimicked it, as he was good at doing, and took his tea as he'd prepared it the first time, face twisting when he took a sip. Bitter... A small chuckle drew his attention, amusement on the Duke's face. “You may find sugar appeases your palate. I often find myself drawn to strong, bitter teas, like a man such as myself should drink.”

Grabbing at the elegant silver tongues, Tetsu sweetened it with three lumps of sugar, sipping at it hesitantly. Much better. His taste buds blossomed in gratitude.

“You appear to learn quickly,” the Duke praised him, and if Tetsu said he didn't like being praised, he'd be a liar. “I am in dire need of a valet, so you may stay at a trial period. My temporary valet will appoint you your duties and show you where you might find the necessary tools for them. I will expect that you are ready to attend to said duties within the next few days.”

Finishing his tea – there was so very little tea in these cups – the Duke took his leave, bidding a polite farewell. Still no name. Sipping at his own tea, Tetsu shrugged. _Hugh_ it'd have to be, until someone enlightened him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your encouragement. ♡ Getting into a new fandom and learning your way around new characters is always easier when everyone is so lovely.

Of all things a young, strong-enough man might end up doing, dancing attendance on a rich lord in a largely empty castle was a far cosier life than many, if not most, others. All it required from him was a willingness to listen, and a remarkable tolerance for stiff, mildly uncomfortable clothing. The uniform required of all staff, and of him by extension, was largely black, the polished indoor boots made of supple leather and reaching his mid calf, giving way to the soft black breeches that hugged his thighs and hips, the way it clung hidden by the red sheep-wool jacket meant to keep him warm in the colder months of the year. A white linen shirt saved him from the rough edges of the wool, but it could barely be seen under his neat ensemble.

The cravat followed a similarly white colour, though he'd struggled to tie in something vaguely resembling an adequate knot. It ensured he was covered up to the line of his jaw, with only a tiny triangle of skin peaking from above it. The Duke was particular on clothing, and though he frequently noted Tetsu's inadequate cravat, he'd made no efforts to correct it beyond sending him to the Steward. The hours of his service were odd, starting a slight while before dusk, passing through the evening, and ending shortly before dawn. In the late fall, early winter, the nights were long enough that all the day's chores could be seen to, but he had to wonder about the household come summertime.

It mattered little to think about summer when he found his way through halls that were rapidly becoming familiar, though. The stone was old and roughly worn in Hugh's part of the castle, with most walls covered by intricately woven tapestries showing old battles and older places. They seemed from centuries ago, rather than the current fashions sweeping the other houses; pale colours and everything precisely in its place, or so the nobles in his parents' shop liked to say.

He had to admit he preferred the rough-hewn walls in this wing, something about them charming in their imperfection and practicality. There were no airs of superiority about this wing of the castle; it seemed sure enough in itself that it didn't need to worry about impressing its guests with frippery. He could imagine living here and growing accustomed to the irregularities, wandering the halls when the myriad candles hadn't yet been lit and relying on the stonework under his fingertips to guide him back to his rooms without being caught by a stern lord demanding to know why he'd been caught sneaking his fingers into the candied-lemon tins. He would have to find out where such things were kept, first – or, he supposed, just ask.

“Enter,” Hugh – Tetsu had, in fact, decided on _Hugh_ , rather than thinking _The Duke_ a thousand times a day – called to him through the heavy doors he eventually stopped at, rapping his knuckles lightly on the panels. They were of a dark wood, chipped in some places near the edges, with heavy wrought-iron handles on the outside and on the inside a simple lock. It was almost a surprise that the maids seemed to have had no trouble with them when he'd observed for two days, watching their daily routines with Hugh's voice in the back of his head of where he would fit in, and what he should be doing when the rest of the house staff went back to their normal routine of keeping the castle prepared for unexpected guests.

Leaning his weight on the door via his shoulder, Tetsu pushed to open it, his free hand balancing a light tea and a small breakfast spread of light fruits and a soft, foreign bread. It counted as breakfast, he'd decided, both because Hugh had said so, and it was breaking a fast – the fact it was gone nine in the evening was irrelevant in that. To the side of the soft bread was the tonic the Steward always prepared before Hugh woke, set in a silver chalice with a hinged lid on top, keeping Tetsu from peering in. He didn't much feel like prying – Hugh was smaller than the average man by quite a bit, so a tonic seemed to a logical thing present in his life.

“Morning,” he greeted when he finally set it down, Hugh's eyes still half-shut and mostly asleep when he re-emerged from the door to his bedroom, leaving it open behind him. His dressing robe was halfway slid off his shoulders, revealing pale skin and a surprising haleness.

“That's hardly a proper greeting,” Hugh managed to reprimand him through the haze of sleep, sparing him half a glance. He looked smaller in his large chair, the upholstery a dark red, set with dark iron studs. Red, Tetsu had noticed, was a common theme. He motioned for Tetsu to slide the platter closer, reaching for his tonic and a small bundle of rich black grapes.

“Fair morn to you, your esteemed Grace?” Tetsu tried, leaning on the cherry wood dresser, his blond hair sliding from behind his hair where he'd forgotten his clips at home. It put him out of range of the uninspired look that tended to accompany Hugh's sighs. Three days and it was a familiar routine – he kept trying new morning greetings, and every time Hugh was too asleep to scold him with the proper dramatics.

Not that he encountered a lack of proper dramatics. He'd gotten the hang of how to properly make a bed after a good few minutes of precise lecturing in the aggrandizing tone Hugh took half the time.  _A well-made bed should have pillows fluffed to perfection_ and  _a Peer should be greeted in the evenings by a perfectly made bed to rest his heavy head on_ and  _that's a quarter-inch off on the left_ . Afterwards, he'd even gotten a  _very well done_ . Enthusiasm in praise was something he surely wasn't lacking, either, but he most certainly wanted for more. 

He broke his gaze from the doorway to the bedroom at a displeased, disgusted noise from Hugh, the same one he made every morning. The routine was set and strictly followed, right down to the way Hugh's face twisted at every tonic. It must be truly heinous when even Hugh, who followed propriety and decency to a  _t_ , couldn't hide it.

“There has to be a way to make that taste less terrible,” he commented, watching Hugh visibly wake. His shoulders were further back, straighter, and his mouth formed into a sterner set, always ready with sharp wit. Remembering, Tetsu added, “My Lord.”

A small nod of approval followed it, then three disappearing grapes did, the seeds carefully spat out into a waiting egg cup.

“There is another way, but it is a... very particular way, and it would be unbecoming of a gentleman to simply _take_ this way, rather than be _given_ it with permission. I would not want to debase myself by taking something in such a crude and brutish way,” Hugh picked at the soft innards of the bread, tearing chunks out of it with a polished fork to devour politely. It was one of his idiosyncrasies that he always left any hard outer edges, Tetsu had noticed. More of it was gone from the platter if he chose soft breads in the mornings. 

“That's fair,” Tetsu shrugged. Some things held even Lords back. “Could you ask?”

“Were the proper situation to arise, it would be possible,” Hugh conceded, seeming amused by the suggestion. “Now, Tetsu, my bath?”

The path to the baths was hidden behind rich, red curtains, tricking the viewer to thinking there was a window facing north. Instead, it held another door, a small flight of twisting steps behind it, carved from the mountain the castle rested on. At the bottom of the steps, it seemed an entirely different world; the stone was polished to a mirror shine, shallow steps leading into the heated, thermal baths that ran at a lazy current. It resembled not at all the icy mountain water it had been so recently. He always went first down the steps, Hugh following behind him, scolding Tetsu patiently if his hands left the railings carved into the stone for safety.

“Devil rose?” Tetsu questioned when he reached the room to the bottom, walking around the edge where the baths were carved into the floor, his words curling into the hot steam that always filled the room. No books would survive in here, so instead, it forced them into more intimate conversation each morning. Glass bottles with carved-gem stoppers covered a shelf halfway up the wall, just out of reach of where one could fully submerge one's self in the baths. They clinked when he rummaged through them, sniffing at a dark purple liquid in a clear vial, topped by a raw amethyst. He'd hoped, but not expected, blackberries. 

The scent was a perfect embodiment of the fruit, at once bringing back memories of bramble thorns catching in his fingers, the thorn that had stuck there for hours until his mother had managed to pry it out, but also the tangy flavour of them, and the pies his father had baked come autumn, sweetened with honey and served with a full double cream. The thought made his mouth slightly water.

“That one will do. You appear to be enjoying it well enough,” Hugh hung his dressing robe on one of the iron hooks awaiting it, soap vial set in its place in a dent in the floor near the baths, made so it wouldn't roll away. The ties to his nightclothes were intricate, modelled after the far east with far too many buttons for Tetsu's peace of mind, but beautiful nonetheless. The stitching was intricate; he had tried the embroidery that lined the hem several times, and come away with sore pride and wasted fabric. Every button, close in proximity to the next, revealed more cool skin until he reached that hem and pushed the jacket from Hugh's shoulders, folding it to join the robe. 

Without the long jacket it left Hugh nude, his skin always cold, even moments after his baths. His body submerged step by step when he turned and entered the pool, sitting on a carved step near the edge to impatiently await Tetsu's service.

“I was thinking of pies,” Tetsu sat at the edge of baths where Hugh waited, his hair already wet and plastered to his skull, down his neck to tickle at his back. He hummed as if to say _continue_ , glasses fogged by the steam until Tetsu removed them and tucked them into his breast pocket for later. “My father would always make blackberry pies, with honey, and it made me think of when I first had them. For the _longest_ time all the bramble bushes were _covered_ in ants, so the first time I remember having a pie like that, I was already about thirteen.”

He patted around himself for the washing cloth, dipping it into the hot waters to soak it and work it up to a lather. The blackberry scent was a fitting accompaniment while he talked. Upstairs Hugh talked most, and that was fine; when he bathed, he seemed content to listen and be serviced. He had to lean forward, his arms submerged up to his biceps to properly wash Hugh, the fabric at his shoulders tinged with damp. His cravat was tugged forward by gravity when he had no jacket on to pin it in place. Hugh's eyes averted from his neck; he was very set on decency and baring skin.

“My father was drinking mead when he had his part of the pie,” Tetsu laughed, mouth set firm in a smile when he finished. “You can guess where _that_ story's going. I insisted I wanted some, but it was so strong. I wasn't sure, and I'm still not sure that it was even mead. It burned my throat all the way down! I coughed for five solid minutes and didn't ask for another sip until a few months ago!”

His fingers, tangled in Hugh's hair, worked in time with the cadence of his voice, working quicker at any climax to his stories, dragging Hugh into the excitement with him because of it. Telling his stories with some dramaticism teased more amused smiles from Hugh, so he made a point of layering his voice with intrigue and melodramatics.

For a moment, Hugh disappeared under the water to rinse the last of the soaps from his hair, emerging with his eyes closed and a hand already outstretched for a small cloth to dry his face. When he stood outside of the baths, it was up to Tetsu to dry him, wrapping him back into his dressing robe for the journey upstairs to see what the day would hold and which clothing would best suit it. The armoire, again of dark wood, seemed imposing with the range of dark, moody colours in it.

“I came into possession of several casks of wine from an honourable acquaintance of mine some years past,” Hugh picked through the hung jackets and breeches, feeling at the fabrics to see which mood struck him best. “In truth, it is a dessert wine, but it is sweet and full, lingering on the tongue to impart bold flavours and expert craftsmanship. I may, perhaps, have it left to aerate when supper is served, and allow you a taste of it when the dessert course is served.”

Carefully, he appeared not to look at Tetsu, instead tugging a deep navy jacket from the armoire, black lawn trousers and an off-white cravat. He would tie it himself when he was dressed, fussing with it until it sat perfectly.

“That'd be nice,” Tetsu offered, kneeling to help assist Hugh into his smallclothes, then the court finery. Thankfully, it kept required far less buttons than the other jacket. Such long overcoats were meant to be worn buttoned only from the neck to the midriff; though the lower half had buttons, they were meant to be left open to fall along the thighs, to just above the knee. When he buttoned the top one, near the rounded mandarin collar, he caught another small, pleased smile from Hugh. There was little doubt about what pleased his Grace: a sincere appreciation for his efforts, and an utter willingness to learn and listen. In return, he would reward. It seemed a fair trade. 

Settling his own jacket back into place, he flicked through the basket of mail that had been left in the room sometime earlier in the day, dividing letters between those with official looking seals and those, well, without. Next to them was a stack of paper, several quills and bottles of rich inks. With them settled, he wasn't sure what to do with himself, hands in his pockets while he looked around. Cleaning came under the house staff's duty, but was he really meant to just.... stand here? That seemed a crying waste of his time, and Hugh's coin.

A book prodded him in the hip, left on the desk when he looked down at it.

“You read, don't you?” Hugh asked him, eyes on his letter and the words scratched there. Tetsu read, sure, but flicking through the pages, he'd be occupied for plenty of time trying to get through these kinds of books. No time like the present to improve on his reading skills, at least.

“I do,” he tucked the book in the crook of his elbow, shifting a settee so Hugh could still see him from between the piles of reference books and ledgers on the desk in case he needed something, and made himself comfortable. At least he'd see what kind of books made a Duke tick.

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Was he a good man, do you think?" Tetsu asked, setting his book - technically Hugh's book - beside him on the settee. It had become his default position when Hugh was bathed and dressed, and any chores were taken care of. Some days he came to Hugh later, having delivered the week's mail to the village for posting, the letters in his hand sealed with Hugh's blood-red stamp, its image a castle with a great many spires. His looping handwriting always adorned it, addressed to this lord or that. Many days, Tetsu also flitted about, changing beds and dusting shelves. To say he was terribly busy would be a gross exaggeration.

But most days, he sat to read while Hugh wrote his letters or detailed his research. He was close to finished with the book he'd been given, a dictionary by his side from the third day. And he understood it well enough, he supposed - remembered details, at least - but he couldn't quite grasp what Hugh intended for him. 

The protagonist was a great inventor, but only at the expense of others, his assistants worked threadbare and his family destitute long before he could sell anything of note. 

Hugh glanced up at him over the glasses perched on his nose, quill silent for a moment. He seemed surprised at the interruption, the noise sucked from the room. In their late evening lifestyle, not even birds chirped. The fire crackled faintly, but it was a normal background noise he barely paid attention to, except for when the noise died down and he started to get cold.

"I think that for all his brilliance, he was extremely unwise," Hugh said eventually. "Many of his early prototypes would have earned a canny inventor numerous noble patrons. There was only a need for polish to his works, for him to take pride in it, rather than pursuing a new invention mindlessly."

The quill was set back in its ink, the chair creaking for a moment as Hugh rearranged himself to slide his unfinished letter further on the desk and rest himself on his elbows. He had a better view of the settee like this, Tetsu realized. The attention was focused on him entirely, suddenly - it contrasted how little he had really connected to his employer before, despite having conversations. 

"I, personally, would have scoured a market for cheap bronze that could be polished to resemble a mirror, and engraved the edges, preparing that as the panel rather than rough metal. If shaped correctly, it would allow the viewer to step closer - of course, you must draw viewers closer and titillate the curiosity - to see the cogs and gears turning. Modern nobles do so love to gaze at the inner workings of things they scarcely understand," Hugh waved an impatient hand, as if such a thing were simple. His gaze, slightly narrowed while he ordered his thoughts, relaxed slightly. "Were you aware that ancient lore views bronze as the mirror of the Gods, revealing the true reflection of all things?"

His eyebrows both raised, watching Tetsu expectantly. Did he want to know his valet was a prodigy, already aware of ancient folklore? Or to be flattered and adored for his unending knowledge of facts? Tetsu was neither genius nor sycophant. 

"I didn't," Tetsu tilted his head slightly, looking off to the side. "Why bronze? Lots of folklore is folklore for a logical reason. What made them think bronze instead of iron or something similar?"

Across from him, Hugh took a breath and launched into extrapolation, eyes shining and eager to impart a willing subject with knowledge. About five minutes in, Tetsu rubbed at his neck, fingers dipping below the cloth of his cravat to work at the muscle. After a while, this wasn't exactly a comfortable angle. Barely stopping his explanation - long since moved on to other aspects of ancient culture - and instead sat beside him on the settee.

Hours later Tetsu stretched, his left leg cramped from being seated, and the room faintly chill without a stoked fire and the windows uncovered to let in the night's breeze. It felt like snow on the air, but not yet. Maybe in a few weeks? He'd have to check that the castle path was kept walk able. He cringed as he stood when his leg pulsed in protest, pins and needles flooding it unpleasantly.

"Do you think Bluebeard existed?" he asked over his shoulder in distraction, tossing two logs on the fire and jabbing at them with the poker, trying to will the flames to catch on. Next to him, he could feel Hugh approach. He seemed to have an almost tangible presence, sometimes. 

"Doubtful," Hugh dismissed. He warmed his hands at the fire, though they still looked as cold as they always were. Perhaps he had poor circulation, a weak heart. "More likely he is rooted in greatly exaggerated fact. I am not so fond of the myth myself. In fact, I find it rather lacking in excitement."

Tetsu quirked an eyebrow, eyes still on the fire. What did Hugh find exciting, if not this? An inquisition?

"I kind of like it. He gets his due in the end," Tetsu protested, well aware it was their first disagreement, if a polite one. A beat of silence followed him. 

"It is all human sin," Hugh sighed eventually, seeming bored. Of him, or of the myth? Tetsu had thought they were getting along fairly well - he'd be disappointed to have disappointed Hugh in turn. "Human sin is a predictable thing. Lust and greed, then pride, then wrath. There is hardly anything magical about a greedy baron."

He'd turned, his tangible presence slipping from Tetsu's side to find its way back to the desk. The sound of new parchment flapped briefly, followed by the scratching of a quill. Sighing into the sound of the fire, Tetsu shrugged to himself. He'd tried, but not many things were worth pretending to be a different person for, if any. 

Setting himself to work, he managed to keep himself busy until dawn threatened to show, helping Hugh from his clothes to his sleeping robe, shutting the heavy wooden doors to the sound of Hugh tugging books from shelves in the mostly ignored adjacent room. 

The familiar stone walls welcomed him and his fingers tracing its ridges on his way back to his rooms. They were in a close wing, but a different one. It felt more modern, his rooms a more neutral navy and his furniture a common inoffensive dark wood. It was a room that, honestly, could belong to anyone and not raise an eyebrow at the fit of it. Its most attractive feature was its bay windows, opening up to a warming dawn breeze that set his curtains to fluttering, his hair tickling at his cheeks. It had a prefect view of the rising sun, the rays falling on to his bed when he finally fell asleep after a few free hours to entertain himself with walks in the grounds and puzzles he'd found while exploring the attics.

It was, all things considered, a very peaceful room. Shedding his clothes piece by piece, Tetsu set aside that which would need washing, and hung the rest neatly from his chair, resting his hands on the back of it for a moment. It still seemed early – the small clock he left under a cushion to stifle its ticking confirmed it was early – but he may as well find his bed now, and hope to drift off at an acceptable hour.

With little else of note happening around the castle, he'd surely dwell on what little he knew of Hugh's personality, and of what they'd spoken.

Clearly, he was smart, had enough knowledge to thrill a crowd or host an excellent dinner party, and loved to share it. The thing Tetsu enjoyed was his lack of condescension. Often, nobles, or even the simply smart, could feel terribly superior to the common man. Hugh seemed to simply enjoy sharing, and being questioned for his opinion.

And he'd seemed to like Tetsu asking – until he hadn't agreed. But he'd liked answering questions, and proving his point with solid reasoning. To be dismissive was out of the tone they'd carried most of the night.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Tetsu considered the windows. On the second story, he may as well leave them open. At least if someone were to take him ransom, he wouldn't be walking circles in his head, begging the questions and contradicting himself. Slipping between the soft sheets, he buried his face into the soft scent of lemon soaps, and willed himself to sleep.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was eventually the sound of robins that woke him. They seemed plump and ready for the winter, fluttering about in the day's thin layer of snow that had somehow managed to persist despite the sun that was slowly making its way back below the horizon. They were settled along his balcony, in a larger group than he'd ever seen before, and seemed to love the balls hung from empty planters and any potted tree strong enough to hold the weight of animal fats and seeds. Some jerked around with prey's natural instinct to look at him when he moved and slid from his bed gracelessly, their small black eyes watching intently to make sure posed no threat and wouldn't pounce. There was no such chance when he felt more than a bit groggy and in desperate need of something to quench the night's thirst and still his stomach when it growled unhappily.

Relatively speaking it was early, even for him; with the late season it was becoming increasingly rare he woke to see the sun, and it took a toll on his skin where its sun-kissed glow had started to fade during his employment. He didn't so much mind, as he'd never been a particularly vain boy, but it emphasized to what extent his life had been upheaved by his choices. His arms started to match his torso where it had been hidden from the sun in his previous life, his tan lines fading into nothingness.

Tetsu shrugged into his morning robe with a small shiver, his fire having gone out while a window open just a finger's breadth let in a cold, crisp breeze. He definitely preferred warmth: hot springs, hot teas, the warmth of a loved one casually physically close enough to lean on his shoulder, so on and so forth.

He shivered again, patting through the pile of clothes he'd left in something resembling tidiness for the blanket he used while reading then tugged that around him too. What he wouldn't give to have Hugh's bathing chambers, or free reign of them. The steam reminded him dearly of the bathing houses in the village, of splashing his unsuspecting friends and staring at them for a second with what he could _feel_ was a smug expression on his face before they gave chase, inevitably ending in an amused pile and needing to bathe all over again from exertion.

Unfortunately, the thought of the hot steam in bathing chambers reminded him not only of fonder memories, but also of the night's argument. He grimaced, raking a hand through his hair. It was becoming longer than was strictly necessary, starting to weigh on the metal pins he used to keep his fringe from clouding his vision too much. There were certainly less people here than he was accustomed to; unexpectedly, he missed even Misono's haughty mannerisms and refusal to speak his heart and admit he enjoyed their friendships.

The castle primarily held other servants, but they shied often from his gaze with the exception of the stern Steward. Something seemed to set them apart aside from the odd hours they shared with their Lord that he couldn't put his finger on, but left him frustrated when he tried to find the words for it.

Higan, at least, was a new friend. Older than him by a few decades at least, but exceedingly friendly, unafraid to clap a hand on Tetsu's shoulder and half-jokingly demand he let himself be painted. He took goodnaturedly to Tetsu's eyerolls and his adept manouevers that let him escape Higan's grip, and seemed to not worry at all about lingering to have conversation that left Tetsu gasping for breath with laughter. They often revolved around Higan's fellow servants, the ones that stayed at the castle with  _their_ Lord while Higan ran messages and packages over the 2-day trip between their castles.

Brothers, Tetsu thought? He couldn't be entirely sure, having caught only snippets of conversation, but it seemed to be the case. The costly vellum of their letters made him think it would be cheaper to simply visit, but he was not a rich noble and not accustomed to their manners.

Which brought him, again, to Hugh. He still hadn't learned his Lord's name, the prospect of asking becoming more and more daunting with each day that passed and the horror that would overcome someone if he proved to not know his employer's name. He stayed  _Hugh_ in Tetsu's mind and  _My Lord_ on his lips, and passed by fine. He'd considered, for a moment, asking after Hugh's full name when they'd slowly been making headway in what seemed to be an unlikely friendship, and had cut off the impulse at the curt ending to it.

Tugging on his jacket instead of his morning robe over a fresh shirt, he left his rooms to seek the kitchens in the quiet castle, eerily silent while the rest of the household slept. The silence gave him far too much time to ponder his own feelings, too much of his mother in him to ignore the niggling questions that kept half-drifting through his stream of conciousness. He tried to order them in something resembling sense as he pushed into the kitchens and rummaged through the pantry for yesterday's pastries and the gathered fruits.

He was, if nothing else, slightly hurt by the abrupt end to their conversation. Why? He ducked out of the kitchens to fetch fresh water from the well, the exertion of the heavy bucket doing his body good. He'd thought they were connecting, and didn't relish being proven wrong. His preconceptions of Hugh's personality were his own to sort out, but... he really  _had_ thought they were bonding. That his presence was  _enjoyed_ . Didn't everyone enjoy feeling important and individual, if only in some minor way?

Setting the bucket back down, he splashed his face and lifted the two large goblets he'd filled for himself. He still, honestly, didn't know where he'd gone wrong, but it wasn't his fault as far as he could deduce when he turned the scenario over in his mind. With so few friends here, he held no choice but to dwell on it.

“Merry morning,” he greeted one of the cooks that slipped from a shadowed door near the pantry, received a tired wave in return. None of them seemed like... morning people? Tetsu sighed into his apricots. He was having as little luck shifting his vocabulary to match his circadian rhythm as he was in figuring out his elusive Lord. Discarding fruit pits and washing his plate, he put his hands in his pockets and decided he'd walk until Hugh's breakfast and tonic were ready. 

The cool air seemed to clear his mind a bit, leading him to a half-hearted apology when he couldn't bring himself to want to fake a sincere one. Misono would have better words for it, so he mulled them over in his mind amongst the idle chatter of the other servants. Something like  _could you please detail my transgressions so we may avoid them further_ had Misono all over it, and nothing of Tetsu, but it would do.

“Thanks,” he smiled at the Steward when the tonic was added as the last thing on the platter, a hint of cloves sneaking through to tickle at his senses, then started his long trek to the other wing, counting steps as he went to keep his mind busy. 

As always, the heavy door gave way under the full of his weight and allowed him entry, but it was a surprise to see Hugh more of a day-time lucid than the usual fog he seemed to have upon waking. Perhaps winter agreed with him. Perhaps he felt bad, too? Tetsu could only hope, but the Hugh he had conversed with seemed the type to do so.

“Good morning,” he greeted, shifting papers and books to set the platter on the desk, watching out of the corner of his eye when the tonic again disappeared behind Hugh's grimace, his full mind seeming to come to him in the sharpening of his gaze, though it was hard to see him over the doubled amount of books on the desk. He steeled himself for his half apology, breath taken and lips slightly parted to speak when Hugh held up a hand that sucked the wind from his speech.

“Pride goeth before the fall is an expression my brothers have often tauntingly thrown my way over the years,” Hugh told him, his expression seeming to hint at a deeper story of some great amusement. It faded away as he continued speaking. “I had always thought it deeply unfitting, and that for all I am a _proud_ man, that that pride made me wise enough to want to always be the very best version of myself.”

He sighed, his lips slightly pursed and his brows a little bit drawn, fingers waving about a small piece of paper without seeming to realize.

“I proved my own beliefs wrong yesterday in my behaviour,” he continued, standing from his chair to instead stand closer to Tetsu, holding out the paper. “I hope to make amends. It has been a very long time since I have had the company of someone other than my peers who has had an _opinion_ that clashed with my own, and I showed myself to be a vain and narrowminded man in my dismissal and annoyance.”

Tetsu unfurled the paper, making no sense of the seemingly haphazard list of words and sentences.

“I apologize,” Hugh's eyes met his, holding his gaze there for longer than was most likely dictated as proper. It felt endless to Tetsu, but not unpleasant. His eyes were a deep churning red that seemed to favour his clothing sense, clear and searching when he'd yet to place his monocle where it belonged. “I have compiled and gathered a list of books that you may enjoy more than the last one, more in keeping with the tastes you mentioned.”

A small smile flitted over Hugh's lips, there and gone again, replaced by the measured, mature expression he always held save for the few moments where he looked agonized over a letter he was writing. His displeasure seemed to hint as parts of Hugh that were less statuesque and more... something else, waiting to be unveiled with time.

“I admit, I selfishly have chosen ones I enjoy, and realized only by the end that I hope to sway you to my side of this argument with a collection of breathtaking books,” he admitted, having the decency to almost look ashamed, but managing mostly smugness at his subterfuge. “If you do not enjoy them I will find you others, but I am quite confident in my choices.”

Tetsu almost laughed at that, because it was absurd, wasn't it? The Lord of the house fetching books for his valet to read and displaying his tightly hoarded emotions in such a genuine manner. It was, most definitely, the Hugh that Tetsu had discussed books over and marvelled at listening to.

“Thank you,” Tetsu smiled eventually, wider than he thought he had in quite some time, making a mental note to copy the list down two or three times on the off-chance he lost it. Brushing his hair back from his face, he motioned to the breakfast platter still largely left untouched. “Your breakfast, my Lord. Perhaps you could tell me which one you favour most while you bathe?”

The suggestion felt like a lurid bruise on the pattern of decency and social status, but a nod from Hugh brushed it neatly aside like the pastry crumbs he had no use for.

Despite all of his best intentions, Tetsu quite felt like smiling, and he'd never been very good at resisting the urge. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for your support, and here I present to you: the next one. perhaps soon we see some familiar faces?

Tetsu fidgeted.

It was a noteworthy statement only because he normally was fairly good at sitting still to read, his excess energy lower thanks to a lack of sunlight, and his body sated from furniture dragged around the small ballroom in the eastern wing in preparation for upcoming visits. It left his mind free to take in the books given to him, especially when they'd become much easier in the past two weeks.

Every novelist seemed to favour the same set of long, cliché words until most of them seemed familiar, and he reached less for the dictionary but instead devoured pages quicker, finishing one every few days between his regular chores, then settling in for an afternoon's worth of discussion, Hugh's quill slowly scratching to a halt never more than an hour after Tetsu slid the book back into one of the bookcases where it belonged.

But _this_ one. He sighed as the antagonist launched into another long, drawn-out complaint that went on for far too many paragraphs. Midway through his mind drifted to the room around them, dark curtains shut and the room lit by more candles than he cared to count, nice and warm thanks to the hearth, and with much thicker rugs for the winter. Though most were woven, a single one by the hearth looked like fur. 

If he were honest, he desperately wanted to feel how soft it was, whether or not it was like his mother's books, run his fingers through it or stand on it barefoot and be soft and warm and comfortable after some kind of heavy labour that left his muscles with a pleasant ache and strain, soothed by the heat of a bath.

As his eyes skimmed over the same line for the umpteenth time, he sighed to match the amount, broken by the sound of Hugh's quill dipping into the ink, then staying there. He looked up reflexively at the lack of the familiar, soothing sound, and found himself meeting Hugh's eyes.

“Does something discontent you?” Hugh asked him, one eyebrow quirking, his fingers laced neatly together – not fidgeting. One of them, at least, was discontent.

“This is -” Tetsu reached for the words, finding only the one he'd read over and over at easy reach for his mind's hands. “Insufferable.”

He squared his shoulders slightly. He didn't want to be insulting. Hugh was nothing but kind to him, and disparaging his tastes was definitely rude, but honesty was his custom and he wouldn't stop now. 

But of all things, he didn't expect a smile to quirk on Hugh's lips.

“I feel much the same,” Hugh confided in him, a visible look of amusement starting to creep onto his face. The more they spoke, the more his face seemed to allow for emotion. “But you've a right to try all genres. I confess, I'm pleased you feel the same. I've fully seduced you into my literary senses, though not entirely intentionally. As a writer, he does drone on terribly, doesn't he?”

Lips set in a small smirk, Hugh's eyes dropped back to look at his letters, hand reaching again for his quill. A small spark of irritation crawled through Tetsu. What was he meant to do with this conversation? Read the rest of a book he had absolutely no interest in? Pent up energy crawled under his skin, his body unhappy with such a length of time without hauling bolts of fabric or setting up a weekly stall at market, lugging wood back and forth.

“I need something to do,” he declared, snapping the book shut, pointedly not putting it back in the usual spot he left his unfinished books, nor on the pile of things from Hugh's list. Enough was enough of whining, dull characters. Hugh's head shot up again at the sound of the book shutting, and he opened his mouth once before shutting it to think. On occasion, Hugh stopped to think. On others, he simply barrelled ahead and demanded for his needs. The occasions seemed appropriate to Tetsu, though how he judged it he really didn't know.

“Then you may finish the small ballroom under my instruction,” Hugh slid from his chair to make for the door, brushing past Tetsu. He barely came to Tetsu's upper bicep, but rarely seemed to notice his own stature when his personality far outsized most men. At the door he stopped to wait impatiently, looking to Tetsu to open it and beckon him through. “The chandelier needs lifting.”

He stayed silent for the rest of the trip, down hallways and staircases, stopping for a moment at Tetsu's beckoning near the main entrance hall. While he was here it was smart to check for Higan, though he came up empty-handed and turned quickly to catch up with Hugh's impatient gait.

The small ballroom really was not what its name implied. Decked in rich reds and golds, reflecting its Lord's tastes, it shimmered grandly in the moon's light, thankfully full enough to see by through the sturdy glass panes making up large parts of the ceiling and walls. Outside, the garden looked equally mythical, at once seeming unreal and too real, inviting him to get lost in it. In the centre the heavy chandelier rested, its long strings of jewels neatly curled around its base.

A thick woven rope came from the top of it, the first several yards strung through with gold thread to make even that opulent. The rest led through a series of pulleys that would allow it to be lifted in the air, eventually leading to a hook hidden by artfully placed vases. They kept the rope from being obvious, but also made the chandelier seem much less heavy than it truly was. If he had less faith in himself, or if he was more cautious, Tetsu would be much more weary of it. 

Nearby, Hugh lit a candle on the chandelier in a single glass receptacle made just for that purpose, to illuminate the gold thread but also keep the rope safe, and allow a viewer to see when the chandelier was at a perfect height.

“I will tell you when it's done,” Hugh informed him, standing a few foot from the chandelier, seeming all the darker for the candle lit close to Tetsu. The rest of the candelabra gave him enough light to see by when he grasp tightly at the thick rope, bracing himself on the part of the floor that was raw stone rather than slippery tile just for this purpose, then pulled.

The first few foot were fine as the chandelier slowly lifted from its once-dusty perch, its golden arms gleaming where the maids had scrubbed it vigorously yesterday. It precariously rose enough to be completely in the air, though Tetsu had eyes only for his rhythm, left hand over right hand, gripping it firmly. The rope was starting to burn at his palms where it slowly slipped through his hands, everything from his wrists to his shoulders, right down to the core of his body burning with the exertion.

He paused about halfway to catch his breath, sweating and hot, his cravat stuck to him unpleasantly. While he debated briefly taking it off, he thought better of it, bracing himself to start again, right hand over left... and swore as the rope slipped through his slightly slackened left hand, burning like wildfire when his body instinctively loosened his grip further, the heavy chandelier gaining speed too quickly for him to stop it.

The world seemed to slow to make sure he properly saw the horror of the chandelier barrelling towards Hugh when he whipped around to look, the sound of crystal shattering deafening to his ears and seeming to carry on forever as the sharp shards flew in every which way, coming far enough to even cut Tetsu's face at this long distance. When it finally fell silent his heart was in his throat, the room shadowed with the chandelier's candle having gone out.

He grabbed the entire candelabra next to him, uncaring for the glass under his work boots to make his way as quickly as possible to Hugh's form; he seemed curled over forwards, his arms covering his head and his jacket near-shredded over the forearms, dripping blood onto the ballroom floor.

Ripping his jacket off, Tetsu used it to brush glass away from a small perimeter, kneeling when he finished, fingers curling around Hugh's cold wrists to tug at them with a soft desperation, mind only on seeing Hugh was not mortally harmed, that no glass worked past this, that his chest was okay, his face, his livelihood, his everything except for these arms with too much of the wrong red and too sticky and he could  _see_ the wounds when he finally got them away from Hugh's face, his clenched-shut eyes.

Trying to regulate this too-quick breaths over the sound of his hammering heart, he couldn't quite look at Hugh's face, guilt and shame and fear warring for dominance when he did, so instead he stared at the horrible gashes.

They seemed less bad than a moment ago, his mind trying to trick him into calming down with a less gruesome image, so he shut his eyes for a moment to calm himself, opening them to only shallow wounds.

His mind was not  _this_ good. He'd seen Mahiru break an arm by the riverbanks.

Staring at the wounds, they knit themselves closed at a snail's pace, Hugh's soft breaths making their way over the noise of Tetsu's hammering heart. They healed so slowly he had to keep refocusing his eyes to notice that they were doing anything, but the skin eventually was pink and raw and new. 

Now he wasn't breathing at all. His body couldn't seem to decide between two extremes.

“Your face,” Hugh remarked, the fingers belonging to his other hand, belonging to his other arm with bloodied sleeves and no cuts, brushed his cheek and came away sticky and red, lingering for a moment in front of Hugh's face where it took on a wistful look for a moment.

“My face,” Tetsu replied, though he meant to say _your arms_ , or _you_ , or _something_. At least he was breathing again, his body kicking in to try to survive despite his mind trying to process something entirely impossible.

“Up,” Hugh stood, hands tugging at Tetsu until he followed suit, taking the route away from the glass epicentre, then the long way round. Outside, a few curious maids were drawn by the crash. Hugh's eyes slid over them, then settled firmly ahead while he absently ordered them. “Run ahead with rags and hot water, and the makings of a hot toddy to my rooms.”

Turning to Tetsu, a hand still firmly on his shoulder, the other on his wrist, he continued his slow guide.

“I will explain this,” he promised, voice low and face serious. Tetsu almost laughed. Of course he would. In all of this, the only thing he _was_ still certain of was that he trusted Hugh, despite the impossibility of it all under the moon's cold glow.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 Tetsu's feet needed no guiding back to Hugh's rooms, their location etched easily into his mind as well as his childhood home was. As he walked, and his panic abated slightly, he could feel his face start to sting and hurt, his hands aching whenever he flexed his fingers and it aggravated the raw, painful skin. At his elbow, Hugh was a steady presence. By the time they arrived, the candles were already renewed in their holders, the fire stoked and casting light into the room.

On Hugh's desk was another platter, a bottle of brandy and a kettle of hot water to judge by the steam curling lazily from its spout. Lemon and sugar were set close by, and after depositing him on his usual settee, Hugh busied himself with a large glass, tasting and mixing until he seemed satisfied.

The glass was warm when it was pushed into Tetsu's hands, and the effect spread to his body when he was ordered to drink and calm himself. The more he focused on simply functioning, the more his mind wandered to the hand resting on his thigh, Hugh's thumb rubbing comfortingly at the fabric of his trousers. He was watching like a hawk, and his gaze trapped Tetsu again. Those eyes seemed darker than usual, no longer crimson, but nearing black.

He must have given something away in his gaze, because Hugh's hand disappeared from a moment to strip off his jacket and its tattered, ruined sleeves, and drop it unceremoniously behind the back of the settee. Out of sight, out of mind - and Tetsu would thank him for disposing of the unsettling reminder, if his free hand wasn't wandering to touch softly at the newly healed skin.

"I will explain," Hugh promised him again, tugging the empty glass from his hand and nudging him to stand, guiding him to the hidden baths behind those red curtains he'd become so familiar with. Down the steps - and Hugh glanced at him every few steps, admonishing him to hold on to the railing properly - and he was instructed to strip. His body obeyed easily, glad for a clear order of the way he was meant to behave. He shivered despite the steam when he was nude, hands shifting to cover himself and give him a semblance of modesty until he was herded into the baths and set to lean against the same wall Hugh always did.

He could tell only by the soft sound of steps that Hugh was still present, clinking through bottles of luxurious soaps. The scent of rose and honeysuckle flooded his senses before hands started softly working a lather in his hair.

"There is no easy way to breach this," Hugh sighed eventually into their silence, when the soft touches, less washing than simply caressing, had almost lulled Tetsu into a comfortable doze. "My brothers and I, we are... different to you."

His tone was entirely unlike his usual bold speech, as if he turned every word over on his tongue before he spoke it. Like a hunter carefully expecting the ground for detritus before putting his foot down, too cautious to spook a grazing deer.

"In common lore, our closest relative is a vampire, I suppose," he said eventually, the fingers of his left hand having slipped down to caress Tetsu's neck and feel at his pulse. He seemed to realize a moment later - a slip of a second after his words - that it could seem a threat, and the fingers slipped away. "There are accuracies - my brothers and I can take the form of beasts, and while we may survive without blood, it is... ideal."

He paused to make a displeased noise, fingers stilling for a moment, then disappearing, followed by the sound of fabric falling to the floor. When Tetsu next heard him, he saw him too. Hugh stood before where Tetsu sat, a washing cloth in his hands and his face chagrined.

"My tonic is a poor substitute for blood, but the only thing that allows me to come close to my full power without resorting to barbaric means," the frown on his face drew deeper at the thought of it. "Blood freely given - truly freely - is the strongest thing for us."

The cloth drew down Tetsu's shoulders, down his chest, and eventually to his knees. It finally drew a reaction from him when Hugh started picking tiny shards of glass from his knees, most of it thankfully washed away by the lazy stream. When they were gone, Hugh washed them more gently than the rest, watching the wounds closely.

"I have lived such a very long time," he glanced back up at Tetsu, moving closer to stand between his legs and touch at the wound - wounds, he could feel - on Tetsu's cheek. "I had forgotten the strength of humans. I should not have allowed you lift that alone."

His hands trailed from shoulder, to bicep, to forearm, and eventually, his fingertips ghosted over the red, raw skin of Tetsu's palms.

"I will understand, should you wish to return home," he told Tetsu, the words quieter than the rest. They were, without a doubt, not the words he had wanted to hear.

Surging forward, he wrapped his arms around Hugh's shoulders, uncaring of his bruised body, and clung on tight. He had almost lost Hugh to wayward furniture - he would not lose him by way of cowardice, either. Fear had coiled in his gut at the sight of it falling so quickly, quicker than he could possibly reach Hugh. Fear, too, that he would get up in the mornings and wander aimless again, yelling to patrons to see his parents' work, hauling cloth and buttons and proving himself a bother to his friends.

Fear that he would not be on a settee, devouring tales of grandeur, and his favourite part - seeing them be praised for their innovation, or torn to shreds by Hugh's pointed words. Fear that he would be deprived of the opportunity to see Hugh scold him through wet hair plastered over his eyes, or not finding out which summer tarts Hugh favoured, or even just being praised for a job well done.

"I don't want to go," he confessed eventually, murmuring but close enough that he knew Hugh would hear.

Who cared if he was a... vampire? Tetsu had marched up to this castle despite years of sermons that a devil lived there. All he had found was a witty, fascinating man who treated him with something resembling equality. A human man could have been much worse to him.

"I won't go," he reiterated, arms tightened until Hugh pried him loose, smile playing on his lips, his hands lingering on Tetsu's wrists. He seemed more light-eyed without the misery clouding them - obvious, now that it was gone. "I refuse."

He opened his mouth to say it again, in case Hugh thought himself some selfless hero, saving Tetsu by sending him away.

"I understand," Hugh soothed, hands dropping to his sides, searching idly for the cloth, but it had drifted to the other side of the bathing pool, floating near the far edge. "My brothers and I heal very quickly, as you saw. We also heal others very quickly. It is easier to hide one's nature if no evidence is left behind. I could-" he seemed to hesitate, but only briefly "-I could heal the damage done to you. It will be slower than my recovery, but... you should not suffer long."

Tetsu hesitated, his hands reminding them of their predicament with a painful pulse in time with his heartbeat.

"I'd appreciate that," he inclined his head, humbled by the offer, and raised it again to state his terms. "But only if you take the blood you need. If you're weak from... years of drinking just that tonic, aren't you? Tonight has to be hard for you."

He crossed his arms to make his point, the atmosphere crackling between them in a battle of wills for a moment before Hugh shook his head, conceding.

"It's more important to heal you than to win this battle," Hugh sighed out, looking... almost like he was sulking? To think, a grand and mighty vampire, a lord in his own right... damn near pouting in front of Tetsu. He laughed, only softly, but enough to draw a softened look from Hugh while he followed from the baths and toweled dry.

Down here, there was only Hugh's robe, so he stayed where he was bid while Hugh found him something with at least a drop of modesty to slip on. Eventually, it was a dressing gown made of heavy fabric to ward off the chill of the room when they emerged again. Even in summer, he anticipated this room feeling cool after being in the heat of that stone room.

"Sit, then," Hugh waved at the settee again, evidence of their drink swept away while they were gone by a maid who surely deserved to be paid more than she was for her service. He sat, baring his hands palm up when it was demanded of him.

Hugh's tongue was soft and hot and wet; it was everything Tetsu would except a tongue to feel like, but it was made sensual by the rapt attention it paid to his hands, Hugh's tongue lavishing the lines in his palms, the joints of his fingers, the soft skin near his wrist. It was excruciating, slow, and Hugh's eyes glanced at him from beneath his eyelashes to catch him staring in fascination every time he moved to a new spot.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to relieve the hot feeling that curled in his stomach when the discomfort in his hands faded, replaced by the pink colour of healing. His knees came next, the smooth surface and minor damage much quicker to heal.

Last was his face, Hugh sitting next to him and tugging him down to bring his cheek close enough. He must have had more cuts than anticipated, judging by the soft, gentle licks healing the cuts there, lips brushing his cheekbone, his temple. Eventually, Hugh drew back, pupils blown wide and his lips slightly parted.

He'd expected it, but seeing it was something else - two fangs, sharp incisors, peeked from behind Hugh's lips, brought on by the taste of his blood. The dried blood on his face was merely a morsel, surely not enough to satisfy. He hesitated for a second, then tilted his head to the side.

Legends always fixated vampires on necks, and Hugh's insistence for a cravat, the way he avoided fixing it when Tetsu's was a mess, the way his fingers had lingered on his pulse... it seemed true.

Hugh seemed to come to him like a man enthralled, lips touching skin with the sort of gentle reverence that came only from disbelief. Tetsu raised a hand to cup the back of Hugh's head, hoping the touch would make it real, confirm that he allowed it - gave it freely.

The initial bite hurt - of course it did, it broke skin - and a tongue laved over the wound, Hugh's hands holding on his shoulders, fingers digging in and a faint moan rising from him when Tetsu bled in earnest into his mouth. With the first swallow, the hesitation was gone and he only sought for more, drinking his fill until he stopped abruptly, his breath seeming shallow and quick.

That tongue - again, Hugh's tongue, hot and distracting - laved over the wounds until he felt sticky but clean, the skin only faintly tugging when he shrugged his shoulders experimentally. As Hugh sat back, Tetsu's hands slipped from the back of his head to his neck. A startled shock ran through his body, followed by a wave of pleased joy: Hugh felt warm.

"You should go," Hugh breathed out, teeth still bared a smudge of blood on his cupid's bow. He looked, for a moment, like the devil Tetsu was warned about. "To your rooms."

He stood, leaving Tetsu's hip cold, his eyes closed tightly and fingers pressed to his temples.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow," he added, seemingly as an afterthought to soothe any of Tetsu's potentially hurt feelings, and turned only at the sound of the door opening, his wild look hidden away by cold wood when it closed again. That he struggled to keep himself in control after... so long... was natural. His success attested to his care, Tetsu thought.

Hugh need not have worried - Tetsu was still, mostly, a boy fearless.


	7. Chapter 7

It was not as though Tetsu had never felt desire before. He had kissed Misono before, experimentally, outside of church on a lazy Sunday, getting brick-dust on Misono's Sunday best and mussing their hair, stealing acerbic words from Misono's breath with this lips. He had once clumsily fumbled with a classmate in a sleep over, voices muffled in his bedroom, hands seeking unseen places and their faces too bright red to do much more than laugh and glance at each other shyly. He had spent a great deal of time, awake in the evenings and with not much on his mind, thinking about desire.  
  
There was, however, one fundamental difference between now and then, and that difference was that Misono, his classmate, and his vague fantasies were not Hugh.  
  
Tetsu barely slept.  
  
Restless energy coursed just under his skin, feeling like it pulsed at his neck and his cheek and his hands; it didn't, of course, but the phantom sensation of a soft, hot tongue dragging over the skin haunted him while his sheets stuck to his body, waking up barely half-hours apart with partially remembered dreams that left his face flushed hot and buried in his hands when he tried to scrub away the lingering images left behind his eyes.  
  
The window was left a crook open to cool his heated skin, birds chirping every time he woke as if nothing was unusual.  
  
He lay on his back, the sun warming one side of his face through the glass doors. The curtains hung open at either side; sleeping in the light didn't bother him, but it gave him far too clear a vision of the top of his caponied bed and the intricate detailing there. It had, like much of the room, blue fabric decorating it. It was entirely unlike the dark cherry wood and burgundy drapes he kept seeing whenever his thoughts drifted.  
  
Tetsu groaned out loud, haphazardly covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow, his arms haphazardly splayed on his pillow. He had to admit, he was impatient; he wanted to see Hugh again and see if the animal desire in his eyes had faded at all. They had blazed when they followed him from the door as though barely restraining the urge to pounce on him like prey. Tetsu would not argue the metaphor, except to say that he would hardly be prey if his arms were wide open.  
  
Morning - evening, he reminded himself - took its sweet time coming, the sun fading at an agonisingly slow pace, and he found himself pacing through his rooms, back and forth and restless again. He couldn't simply barge in; he had to await Hugh's tonic before he could go.  
  
Except, it occurred to him, he didn't. The tonic was obsolete in the face of Tetsu's bared neck. A small trill of pride fluttered through his pulse that Hugh would no longer cringe and force the tonic down his throat for the mere fact of survival. The feeling buoyed him down the hall, into the kitchens, and through the myriad cupboards. He barely noticed his surroundings - in fact, he knocked his head into the same hanging pan twice, and had to slow his own hasty movements with an element of chagrined shame.   
  
He made it at least to the entrance hall, platter in hand and intentions upon his lips. There, he came up short at the sight of Higan - and a tall, willowy type of man. A type he even recognised. Balancing the tray, he dipped into a bow, mumbling a soft _My Lord_ until Tsubaki gave him leave to rise.  
  
Their coats were covered in snow, the sound of horses and a carriage growing fainter from behind the heavy wooden doors. They must have used the small side-entrance Higan often used and was skilled at opening despite a lock, but it required a good few minutes' walk where the carriages could not quite reach.  
  
Looking for a side-table, he abandoned his platter and made his way to the side of the hall, fumbling for the blue rope that would sound the bell in the Stewards' rooms - only in case of importance. The man himself appeared only minutes later, hardly looking like he'd just woken up. Tetsu was almost certain he slept in his clothing, but they would not be so firmly pressed if he did; a seam ran perfectly, crisply down the front of his trousers, and his jacket hems fell precisely perfectly. His hair, too, seemed to not move - Tetsu almost suspected it to be simply very realistic wood.  
  
The Steward cast Tetsu a look, but it slid away as his eyes landed on Tsubaki, and he commandeered that their bags be left there they stood; he would have them brought to the yellow tea-rooms, with food. A purposeful pause left an opening for Tetsu. Weeks ago, he would not have seen it, but he'd grown more accustomed to the household and its silent intricacies.  
  
"I will wake His Grace, and let him know," he put on his most serious voice, drawing a barely-hidden smile from Tsubaki, who knew him from only 10 upwards as a loud child too eager to run around in a room full of pins and shears, and a teasing grin from Higan, more accustomed to seeing him improperly near to tears from laughter, doubled over and clutching at Higan's shoulder. He allowed himself a small smile too, weary of the Steward's lectures on propriety. It reminded him of the evening's events - he couldn't believe he'd forgotten the mess they must have left in the small ballroom...  
  
"Thank you," Tsubaki saved him, gracefully sweeping from the entry hall and up the grand stairway as if he were lord of the castle as much as Hugh and knew where he was going. It was possible, but Tetsu wasn't sure if he'd even be able to tell if Tsubaki were lost behind that face that gave nothing away.   
  
Instead of following them the same way, he took the servants' hallways to Hugh's rooms, knocking and pushing his way in. Now he was close, his heart hammered again in his chest - the scent of the rooms (amber, leather, something distinctly male, Hugh's cologne) going to his head. When he entered, Hugh was already there, frowning at a letter.  
  
A frown was not what he had hoped for, but...   
  
"Good morning," he ventured, setting the tray on the desk in front of Hugh, unsurprised when the greeting wasn't returned. The king could run stark raving naked through the room and he doubted Hugh would have noticed, so focused was he on his letter. Bold and fearless, still, he reached out to rest a hand on Hugh's forearm. The touch seemed to wake him from his focus, blinking a few times to adjust from staring at the looping, whorling script to take in Tetsu. It seemed like headache-inducing handwriting.  
  
"Good morning," Hugh returned, finally, not pulling his arm away, and that was something. For a moment, the tense air between them remained silent.  
  
"I didn't bring your tonic," he started, by means of conversation, and took the small upward twitch of Hugh's mouth as praise and compliment for his thoughtfulness. An idea struck him, and he rested his other hand on the far armrest of the huge chair, leaning further down, putting them closer. His palms barely hurt anymore. "You don't need it, right?"  
  
He tilted his chin upwards, not breaking eye contact. He'd seen in the mirror that the bites had left faint, red marks, and Hugh's sharp inhale promised he'd seen them, too - and found them pleasing.  
  
"I don't," Hugh agreed, voice hoarse and deep, his free hand coming up to tangle in Tetsu's hair and push it aside where it obscured the view of his skin. The letter fluttered unseen to the floor, entirely forgotten. He wasn't sure if he wanted more to be given a kiss or to be bitten - and not fully healed, to be left with a faint scar that proclaimed a great many things.  
  
He almost offered the temptation when a knock came on the door, and he jerked away, a half-step back and to the side when the door opened.  
  
"I don't recall giving you permission to enter," Hugh called out frostily, arms moving to cross over his chest. A frown was plain on his face, put out by the interruption. The servant seemed lost, glancing between the desk, which already held a platter like the one in his hands, and the door, as though to bolt. Tetsu could feel his frown mirroring Hugh's, but it wasn't the servant's fault the Steward was feeling sadistic enough to send him when it was clearly not required.  
  
He almost laid a hand on Hugh's arm again to calm the storm he could see just barely brewing under Hugh's icy expression, and instead looked for an excuse for the poor man.  
  
"I was in a rush to tell you something," he said, shifting to stand more in Hugh's line of vision. The frown on his face smoothed a bit, banishing the start of the two faint frown lines between his brows. "I was bringing breakfast when Lord Tsubaki, uh, showed up."  
  
Was there a polite way to phrase an unexpected guest ruining his attempts at throwing one's self at one's employer? Probably, but it didn't fall in Tetsu's scope of education. At a faint motion of Tetsu's head, the servant beat a hasty retreat.  
  
"They're in the yellow sitting room. I was going to wake you up and tell you, but..." he trailed off, not sure how staunch Hugh was on not having his servants knowing his affairs. He was fairly certain, after all, that something would come of it had no one interrupted.  
  
Hugh's frown deepened again, but it seemed much more mellow: a rain shower rather than a tidal wave.  
  
"He could have sent notice," Hugh grumbled, letting Tetsu tug the tray of breakfast closer to him, silently nudging him to eat. He tilted his head to the left at the shake of Hugh's head. Standing and making for the bathing room, Hugh explained, "I don't need anything extra when I'm feeding off blood freely given."  
  
He paused for a moment.  
  
"Very freely given," he complimented. "And finer than the Royal English court's best chefs or Paris' most revered pâtissiers. It's as close to perfection as I've ever tasted."  
  
With a smile, he disappeared behind the curtains to find his way down the stairs, but his presence definitely lingering in Tetsu's rapid pulse.


	8. Chapter 8

That evening Hugh smelled of honeysuckle and lemon, and Tetsu's fingers worked the conditioner to a lather in slow, lazy movements that held much less purpose than before. He sat behind where Hugh was submerged in the carved-out bathing pool, his legs bent in front of him, his crossed ankles only an inch or so from Hugh's nape and a folded towel under his buttocks to keep him from aching on the stone floor. He needed only to lean forward slightly to reach Hugh's head, fascinated by his fingers slipping though the dark, soapy strands. Instead of driven by duty, he enjoyed the scent of it, enjoyed mapping out the feeling of Hugh with his fingers, like the point where he would bump into the shell of Hugh's ear, the point where tiny hairs gave way to his nape, or the way he seemed to imperceptibly, almost unnoticeably relax when Tetsu's thumbs drew slow, methodical circles on his scalp.  
  
Really, he didn't want their bath to end - even though it held less conversation than usual, with only tidbits of chatter to keep the silence from the air. The air seemed bated while it waited for one of them to put into words the spark Tetsu had felt when he'd offered himself.  
  
"I," Tetsu started, emboldened by the memory, though he hadn't really had anything in mind to say and floundered when his thoughts offered him nothing decent. "I don't know your name."  
  
He hadn't intended to say that, but if any time was appropriate (other than on their very first meeting, where he really ought to have brought it up), it was now. Before he started exchanging kisses, hopefully ones led to more intimate touches, and to something... else. It startled him when Hugh laughed instead of bristling like a furious cat, one of Hugh's hands catching his to inspect and toy with it.  
  
Tiny, faint bits of redness scattered his palms from the rope burn. A scar ran the length of his index finger from an unfortunate incident of trying to catch a pair of shears falling blade-down on instinct. He'd never looked at his hands in such details until he'd tried to see what Hugh was seeing; rough hands, softened slightly by castle life, with slightly crooked fingers. His middle finger bent slightly to the left though he'd never broken it; it was just an idiosyncrasy of his body.  
  
"I don't particularly have a name," Hugh told him, and he had the distinct impression this was a conversation they ought to have had facing one another instead, so he could kiss away that sombre tone. "None of us do, not really. It's a very complicated matter."  
  
He let go of Tetsu's hand to drag his palms over his face, eyes closed and fingertips on his eyelids, massaging them gently as though he'd spontaneously developed a headache.  
  
"We're not entirely sure why, either. It's... we take our names from our partners. Or rather, they're given to us." he sighed, leaning his head back to rest it on Tetsu's crossed ankles. Uncaring of the water, distracted by Hugh's knotted brows and down-turned lips, he leaned forward, resting on his elbows.  
  
Hugh's lips tasted of nothing in particular, pliant under the chaste kiss he pressed to them. They fed him a surprised noise, parting to let out a warm breath that ghosted along his skin.  
  
"Tetsu..." Hugh murmured, voice carrying a hint of wonder. The motion made his lips brush Tetsu's again; when he wet his lips, the faintest feel of his tongue brushed by. Hugh's hand raised to lace in Tetsu's hair, tangling in it to hold him in place and take a kiss for himself too, nipping softly at his upper lip to ask for entry. He stopped to laugh softly, letting go and squirming away to stand in the bathing pool. "You have an extremely impractical taste in positions."  
  
He wasn't wrong; Tetsu's back ached despite the short amount of time he'd been sat, leaning forwards, and it cracked as he straightened out to reach for a towel. He stopped at the frown sent his way from the baths.   
  
"I'm not getting out," Hugh told his imperiously, arms crossed over his chest, his fingers tapping impatiently on his skin. His hands gleamed slightly with traces of conditioner where he'd quickly submerged himself to rinse away the lather of honeysuckle soap. "You're getting in."  
  
That was... fair. As much as he'd bathed Hugh, dressed Hugh, seen him mussed and ruffled, Tetsu had been hidden away himself. His jacket fell to the floor first, uncaring of the water on the smooth stones, followed by his shirt. Hugh eyes glanced over his shoulders, pale but broad, marked only by an imprint of the seams in his sleeves. They travelled down to take in his arms, lightly muscled; his abdomen, graced with a thin line of golden hair, and his pink nipples that took to the thrill of attention and stiffened gladly.   
  
He shifted to the side to try to conceal them, bending to unbuckle his boots and leave them out of the way, followed with only slight hesitance by his breeches. Part of him sent a word of thanks to public bath houses stripping him from too much shame, but his hands drifted to cover himself anyway on his way to the steps into the bath, and only surfaced when his modesty was shielded at least a bit by the water. If he stood towards the shallower area, the water reached his chest, though he could kneel in the shallower section by the carved seats and still be warmed.  
  
"Come here," Hugh held out a hand to his hesitance, tugging him closer when he reached out his own hand and clasped it, going easily to his knees to mitigate their difference in height. On his knees his head reached just above Hugh's shoulders, perfect for Hugh to tilt his head back and take a much firmer kiss, demanding rather than asking his lips to part and his mouth to open itself for plunder, Hugh's tongue invading to explore him, taste him, and pour his frustrations of their weeks together into pleasure instead. His hands slid from Tetsu's face to his shoulders, then rested on his back, arms wrapping around him to haul and keep him close.  
  
A tiny moan fled him at the entirely focused attention, the world around him fading to only being kissed and opening himself up to give as much as could be taken. It was only when his head felt light and the need for air became more pressing that he broke away, panting softly and pupils blown wide. He licked at his lips, slightly swollen and surely reddened by kisses.  
  
"That was... nice," he said softly, steam curling around them. He regretted having to leave soon, but the world continued to turn no matter how much it seemed to stop for them, hidden away from prying eyes. Droplets of water clung to Hugh's skin, begging to be touched, so he did. "We should do this again."  
  
A tiny spike of insecurity took him, human nature overriding for a moment the possessiveness with which Hugh had claimed him to make him doubt something happening between them until it was banished with a firm nod and he was led from the bath, towelled dry and left to stand there in just that - his towel. From the floor his jacket was lightly soaked, not dripping, but wet enough he would surely catch a cold in the freezing hallways of the castle when going from room to room. He made sure to check the room before leaving the stairway and entering back into Hugh's suite, standing by the fire with a soft prayer of gratitude for its warmth. He almost laughed then; he supposed he'd gotten what he'd wished for, barefoot by the fire on the luxurious fur rug, but lacking many pleasurable adventures beforehand.  
  
He looked over, the laugh fading off at Hugh's frown and the sigh that followed yet another letter fluttering to the desk.   
  
"At least my other brothers have the decency to send notice before they arrive," Hugh told him, eyes still on the letter, his hand still outstretched in a forgotten motion to pull the cord that would summon a servant to fetch clothes for Tetsu. It clearly didn't seem like a visit for pleasure, so he risked the cold stone floor before he reached another carpet, his free hand resting on one of Hugh's shoulders as he got closer. It took some effort not to spy at the letter when it was so close, but he'd rather know because Hugh told him, not because he'd looked himself. His touch drew Hugh closer to him on instinct until he could provide comfort the best way he knew how: contact, with Hugh leaning against his side at only a little coaxing. It loosened his tongue enough to set him to talking. "There's an... issue at the border that has squarely put itself on a list that can not be ignored."  
  
The twist to his mouth spelled bad things for the occupants of that list, and he had to wonder briefly who else inhabited it, but was denied the thought when his side was cold suddenly, and the faintest sound of the bell made its way back to him.  
  
"But you can hardly meet my brothers nude," Hugh teased, disappearing through the door to find him a robe and hide him from the servants' eyes.If all it took was forgetting a shirt to draw Hugh from a poor mood to teasing and a hint of a smile, he'd gladly do it.

First though, he had to succeed in meeting Hugh's family.


End file.
